heart thief
by soleilnoire
Summary: twisted love. i broke you, i just wish i could forget it. heart thief [written preawe] [WE]
1. wish you were here

wish you were here - **chapter one**, the heart thief.

-:-

"Your husband has arrived, Ma'am." The querulous old maid shifts anxiously at my dismissive shrug. "He requests an audience in the parlor."

I pull my robe tighter around my shoulders and rise from the bed, glancing at the storm lashing at the windows. It's wild tonight, wild enough that a shiver of part fear, part excitement runs down my spine.

"Perhaps the Master would prefer more appropriate apparel?" interrupts the old maid, as I go to leave my bedroom. Nobody is on my side in this house. I'm entirely alone in this bitter and boring hell.

A rude answer hangs unspoken in my mind. The room is cold and I glare at my confining wardrobe with distaste.

"Tell my husband that I have fallen ill." I say and flop back down onto the inviting blankets. The maid's mouth tightens and until I look at her and dare her to defy me. She ducks her head in a hasty curtsey and scurries off at my raised eyebrow. I let myself laugh somewhat maliciously, no matter how much they disapprove of the pirate wife, they cower anyway.

No matter how long I close my eyes and breathe deeply, sleep does not come. I rise again and open the window. The storm rises around me, whipping the blue curtains and disturbing the sheets on my bed. If I lean out further I can just see the sea, a dark stormy mass tearing at its boundaries. I feel for the sailors. I've outlasted many storms myself, but they never got easier.

Thinking of sailor's inevitably brings me to think of him.

He's been preying on my mind lately, since Jack came back to Port Royal. Jack Sparrow, whom I rarely see, brought me a large supply of rum and a great deal of gossip. Usually I welcome Jack, but this time I sent him away in disgrace for bringing me news about a certain person from whom I have distanced myself from completely.

It's been almost ten years but I remember him as if it were yesterday. Ten years and every day has been long, boring and painful since.

A fringe of raindrops drip from my golden flyaway hair and my throat chokes up.

"Elizabeth, come away from that window at once! You'll catch cold." My unwelcome husband appears at the doorway and pulls me away from the window. He is followed by a triumphant maid, who sneers at me before being brusquely dismissed by James.

"I thought you were waiting in the parlour?" I turn away to disguise my anger and shame at being caught crying over something that ended years ago. He lets go of my arms and I return to the bed, pulling the sheets around me. The window is still open, the curtains flapping, the raindrops staining the carpet. But despite the chill of the roaring wind, it is cleaner than any air in here.

"Master Hughes gave me something for you that I thought you might want to see." James looks worried and uneasy, knowing he is not wanted in my chamber and I have no intention of alleviating his worries.

James passes me a crumpled piece of parchment sealed with a messy blob of candle wax. Ignoring him, I turn back to the window and open the letter.

_Deer Mrs Norrington,_

_Hear is the report that you rekwested_

_The Heart-thief atacked the merchant vesel Birdman, ownd by Jacob Mastairs. The Birdman was carring a lot of cargo, such as some silks and spices from the east. The atack was discovred by the navl ship the Endevor, who saw the Heart-thief fleeing the wreck. The sailors looked in the ship and found knowone aksept a girl. She was ded. All the cargoo was gon._

_Your respecktfuly,_

_Ferdinand Hughes. _

_PS: If you wont to no more about the girl, Gibbs will be in Port Royal on fist day of winter and he might no something. _

_P.S.S If I hear anyting more on the heartthief I will tel you._

I fold up the letter, feeling marginally better. Hughes's massacre of the English language never fails to cheer me up. It's been a long time since I saw Joshamee Gibbs and the first day of winter is a week from now.

I don't need to know anything more about the Heart-thief. I already know that its captain is a lost man, not to mention cruel and ruthless enough to kill anyone in his path. But I keep the reports coming for old time's sake. Maybe I will go see Gibbs, just to catch up … I miss my old life.

I know it seems unfair to send Jack away for saying the same thing that Hughes does every few months, but Jack always manages to get under my skin by insisting that it's my entire fault. He believes that the Captain's just a broken-hearted man and I could heal that. But I've insisted on having no contact whatsoever. Not even persuasive, witty Jack shall change my mind.

Anyway it's Tia Dalma's fault through and through.

The floor creaks as James shifts uncomfortably.

"What are you still doing here?" I inquire icily. He coughs, I don't turn around and I'm not going to make it easy for him.

But Hughes's letter has softened my heart, so I find it within myself to relent. It's not his fault that I don't love him as a good wife and mother should. I face him and he holds out yet another envelope.

"I thought you might want to see this."

Feeling curious, I glance at the letter and realise that the broken seal is imprinted with Cutler Beckett's insignia. I look back at James, but his impassive face doesn't tell me anything.

_Commodore,_

_It has come to my attention, yet again, that the Heart-Thief has been preying on the Merchant Fleets again. Those ships are under the East India Trading Company's protection, so it becomes your responsibility to rid my seas of this threat. _

_I am sure that you will send me regular letters of your progress. Also, if you happen to apprehend Captain Turner of the Heart-Thief, I'm sure that the East India Trading Company could find a little something for you to compensate for your trouble. _

_I would be glad to see the ex-blacksmith in my office dead or alive, Commodore._

_I am confident in your skill and will look forward to your correspondence. _

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Cutler Beckett._

_PS: I would recommend that you do not take your wife on the voyage, I believe that she and Turner have some kind of history. _

_PSS: If you happen to come across The Black Pearl or it's Captain, I'm sure I could also find a prize for you, though I'm eager for you to concentrate your efforts primarily on The Heart-Thief. _

I sit down heavily on the chair, the colour draining out of my face. James looks a little worried as he bends over me, calling the maid and taking the letter from my limp hand.

"What are you going to do?" I ask, waving away a anxious-looking maid holding smelling salts.

"Elizabeth – " I can see it in his dark eyes, he's going to try convince me that killing Jack and Will is for the best.

"No, James!" I snap, aware that this is stupid and I'm losing control completely. "You can't, you can't – do this to me." I watch him try to be reasonable, but he's losing his temper too.

"Do you realise how many innocents have been killed by those two? It's for the best, Elizabeth," His green eyes darken with anger as I toss my head with contempt.

"I'll never forgive you." I hiss dramatically, ignoring the tears that are streaming down my cheeks and the melodramatic twist to my statement. That's the last straw for James, who I'll admit, I have given a hard time, over these long years.

"You haven't forgiven me for marrying you yet." He shakes his head bitterly. "What chance do I have?"

I scream in frustration and stalk out of the room, my robe billowing around me impressively.

"I set sail next week." He says, ignoring my drama.

I almost make it all the way down the stairs before I break down completely. Sinking down onto the step, with my back against the wall, I throw my head back and let the bitter tears pour down my face freely.

"Mama?"

"Go back to bed, Gracie." I say dully, choking down sobs and opening my eyes.

She's standing on the top step; her dark hair and pale skin making her look sort of ethereal in the half-light. Her eyes brim with tears, simply because she can tell I'm distressed. She opens her mouth, perhaps to reassure me, but the appearance of James distracts her.

"Come on, Gracie." He puts his hand on her shoulder and guides her gently back towards her bed. He's always been better to her than I, even though he knows he's probably not her father.

"Will Mama be okay?" I hear her wavering little voice ask. My heart breaks again, I'm not sure how it could break anymore, but it just did. She loves me more than I could ever deserve.

"I'm sure she'll be fine." James answers and I wish I could agree. If there were any reason that James could hate me, it would be for neglecting Gracie. I pick myself up and trail down the stairs.

Ignoring the footman watching me in my nightdress curiously, I push the doors open and enter the night.

The sky is dark with clouds and the thunder booms loud enough that I can't hear the worried footman calling me back. Rain pours down, soaking me and washing away the tears and fears for the moment. Glancing out to the sea I wonder if he's in the same storm, on his ship, the Heart-Thief. Lighting cracks over the land, illuminating the raging sea. I throw my head back and scream my brokenness to the night.

Tomorrow I'll be sane; tomorrow I'll fix everything up and make sure that James doesn't do anything stupid. But for now I'll just be free…

-:-

A figurehead emerges from the dark, lit by a lantern swaying in the rough winds. A winged man, thrusting his head out into the unknown.

A man paces the deck, nervously wringing his hands and looking back at the ship on the horizon again and again. It is to dark to make out the shape of the ominous ship, but the lamps winking at him in the darkness betrayed its presence. A pale girl confined in heavy linen and corsets approaches the man, a slight frown marring her pretty face.

"Daddy?" The man stops and turns to his daughter, trying to wipe the worry from his face for her sake.

"Yes, darling?"

"That ship on the horizon –" she trails off, noticing his expression. "That's why the men are worried?" she whispers, not really needing an answer. She knows.

He nods briefly.

"Sophie, darling, lock yourself in my cabin and don't come out unless I ask you."

She nods, but with out having any intention of going to the cabin at all. Luckily he wasn't paying enough attention to notice and so she slipped away quickly. Johnny, the man who she'd fallen in love with without her father's knowledge, was waiting just beyond the circle of light. The rest of the crew, who all fully supported the young couple's relationship, pretended not to notice as she threw herself into his arms.

"What's happening?" she asks, her voice wavering.

"The Heart-Thief." His face is grim, like the rest of the crew, seeing her face he stops. "It'll be okay." He reassures her, his green eyes gleaming earnestly. But he didn't look very reassured himself. "You better go to the cabin, like your father said. You especially aren't safe tonight."

She cocks her head to one side, confused.

"Why me?"

"Haven't you heard the stories?" His dark hair flops into his eyes, obscuring his expression for a moment as he appeared to be wondering whether he should continue. She brushes his hair away with a tender gesture and nods her head, motioning for him to continue.

"Once upon a time, The Captain of the Heart-Thief was engaged to be married. Somehow the both him and his fiance ended up on the Black Pearl, in the clutches of one infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Anyway, while aboard the ship, Sparrow seduced his lovely maiden and eventually stole her honour. After that the girl repented and decided she loved Turner more. But he'd became convinced of her unfaithfulness and wouldn't have her. The girl broke his heart completely and he was never the same again. He became ruthless and cruel because one woman broke him, not unlike the legend of Davy Jones She went back to her hometown and he, feeling he had no other place to go, visited a witch-woman living on a cannibal island. The witch woman, who might have been in love with him, felt sorry that he loved a woman he couldn't have and gave him a charm."

"What charm?" Sophie interrupts, leaning closer and not noticing the crowd that had gathered around, all listening to Johnny's entrancing story.

"A charm that made it impossible for any woman on God's green earth to resist him." Johnny pauses, his vivid green eyes glowing in the lamplight and pulls Sophie close to him protectively. "Ever since, he and his ship the Heart-thief, named for the witch woman's charm, have been preying on ships, leaving none alive and no one aboard except a single woman." Johnny finished abruptly, remembering Sophie's presence and conveniently leaving out the fact that when found every one of those women were dead.

"That is quite enough superstition from you, Mr Matthews." Captain Mastairs bursts into the centre of the circle and notices Sophie in Johnny's arms. "And kindly unhand my daughter, if you please."

Johnny reluctantly let go of Sophie, who is quickly hustled away in the direction of the cabin. They never looked away from one another, until Sophie vanished from sight and Johnny was left in the cold, feeling a shiver of unease run down his spine.

-:-

The cannons had stopped firing a long time ago and even the terrible screams of dying men had petered out into silence. Sophie's shoulder ached from trying to break the door down and her hands were almost bleeding from the amount of times she had wrenched at the door handle and the steadfast lock.

She'd given up a while ago, so she just put her head down on her knees and sobbed, not caring who heard her. A quarter of an hour later footsteps marched over the silent deck and the key turned in the lock. Sophie leapt to her feet, hardly daring to believe her father was alive after all that time. For he was the own one that had the key.

The door swung open and Sophie almost screamed in horror. It wasn't the round jolly face she'd expected, a rough scary looking pirate. He grinned at her shock.

"You best be coming to see the captain, I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you."

Sophie screamed and protested as the man picked her up and dragged her out of the cabin, but it was useless. She fell silent as she saw the bodies. All the men aboard the ship, down to the cabin boy, lying dead or dying on the deck. Only hours ago she was sharing stories with these very same men. And her father…only hours ago she'd been arguing with him and now he was likely dead.

She started to cry, which seemed to bother the pirate carrying her. Suddenly she was set upon her feet, so she wandered through the lines of dead men, hardly able to see through her tears. She searched for one face, a face she wanted to see and dreaded seeing.

She saw Johnny's face and it was like a hot knife to the heart. She dropped to her knees, brushing his hair out of his eyes and dripping tears all over his face. He wasn't dead, but he was dying and Sophie knew it.

"Sophie…" He whispered, his green eyes dulled with pain. He raised his hand and touched her face briefly. His other fist clutched the pale blue ribbon she'd given him months ago as if it were the single most important thing he possessed. "I'm sorry…" His voice trailed off and the light went out of his eyes. Sophie felt the hand she was holding go limp and her heart broke in two. A single tear rolled down Johnny's cheek and Sophie couldn't tell if it was his or hers.

"Johnny, wake up, please!" She pleaded, but it was no use. A hand interrupted her heartfelt sobbing, pulling her to her feet. She whirled around, caught a fleeting glimpse of bright brown eyes and brought her hand up to slap the person's face. A strong hand caught her hand before she could slap him. She blinked through her tears at the man who had her wrist in a firm grip. By the respectful distance the rest of the ragged bunch kept, she assumed that the man she was glaring at was the legendary Captain of the Heart-Thief. The man who Johnny had been telling her about just hours ago. The thought made tears well up in her washed out grey eyes.

"You bastard," she whispered brokenly, looking back down at Johnny, lying dead on the deck.

"Did you love him?" The simple sound of that voice pulled her gaze back to his deep, brown eyes and she looked at him properly for the first time. He had dark hair that curled wildly around his face and was pulled back into a messy tail. His mouth was just about level with her cheek and so close that she could almost feel the faint shadow of stubble brushing against her skin . Instinctively she moved closer and was rewarded by his warm, inviting mouth whispering against her cheek.

"Love is only pain," he whispered and moved his strong brown hand over her wrist, up her arm. She shivered as he tilted her head back and their gazes met, grey eyes glazed over and brown eyes slightly bitter. "Forget him." He commanded in a whisper, moving closer. Sophie almost forgot her own name as his mouth closed over hers, sealing her fate with a magical starburst of desire.

They progressed to the cabin, oblivious to the crew, who'd started throwing the dead men over the side into the raging sea. A line of clothing trailed after them, a coat, boots and pair of Sophie's shoes, a pair of silk stockings and then they entered the cabin. He threw her down onto the bed before turning around and locking the door.

For a single second he paused and leant his head his head against the door, knowing what he was doing was wrong, but lacking the motivation to stop. Then Sophie called to him, her voice husky with desire and he gave in to the temptation.

She was still lying on the bed, only wearing a shift and corset; her dress already disposed of. He smiled down at her, trying to keep from looking as false as he felt. She sat up; her eyes alight and pulled his shirt over his head, running her fingers eagerly over his bare chest. He pulled the knife from his belt, as she wrenched down his breeches. Kneeling over her, one hand pinning her eager hands above her head, he placed the tip of the knife against her chest just where her corset ended. She didn't perceive the danger she was in and he didn't have the heart to kill her. So he simply ran the knife down her corset, freeing her from it's punishing restriction.

She took a deep breath and pulled his head down, keen for another of those mind-blowing kisses. He had other ideas, but she didn't really mind when he pressed his lips to her neck instead, leaving her mouth free to moan ardently. He ran his hand from the top of her knee, under her flimsy shift, up her slim thigh until he met her hip. Their gazes caught again as he pulled the shift over her head. She smiled; throwing her head back and letting him enter her.

-:-

She gave one last cry and fell back down on to the bed, her face gleaming with sweat and her eyes glowing with happiness. He pressed his lips to her neck, already feeling the regret welling up inside him. The knife was inches away from his hand. Better to do it quickly. It wasn't her fault at all… The knife was cold against her hot skin, but Sophie didn't notice as she gazed into Will's beautiful, bitter dark eyes.

Better to do it quickly…

She must have seen the agitation in his face, for a slight frown passed over her features.

"Will…?" She murmured

He moved the knife to where her heart beat frantically against his skin.

"Will…?"

He shut his eyes and lent his weight to the knife, parting flesh from flesh and Sophie from life easily. The heartbeat shuddered and failed completely. Sophie gave a contented sigh and the life left her grey eyes. Will opened his eyes and felt slightly sick as he realised how she still had desire in her dead eyes. He stood up and pulled his breeches and shirt on. Glancing back, he tossed a blanket over her naked body.

He didn't look back again.


	2. Manipulation and Mistakes

Manipulation and Mistakes

YAY for Friday afternoon! (in Australia) I hope you enjoy your weekend. Extra special thanks to Random Authoress and Nazgul Queen for reviewing. (I told you it was twisted and terrifying!)

x

"I'm taking Gracie." He's pretending that the statement shouldn't bother me a bit. I choke on my coffee and slam the cup down on the table.

"What?" I ask, glancing quickly at Gracie, who's pretending not to notice my shock. James doesn't look up from his porridge. "Can we discuss this somewhere else?" I say dangerously and it's not really a question. He reluctantly puts down his spoon and follows me into the living room.

"You've already discussed this with her?" I try to keep the anger out of my voice, but it's hard.

'Elizabeth, this is non-negotiable." He says firmly, looking out the window and not at me. "Who would she stay with except for me?"

"I am her mother." I almost shout. I love her, despite the fact that I haven't cared for her much over the last 9 years. "I'm her only blood relative in this house." And it's true, though James doesn't like to hear it.

He flinches and turns around.

"Despite the fact that you are her mother, I wouldn't leave her in your care for anything." He snaps and this time I'm the one flinching. "You've never cared for her in your life."

"That's not true." I whisper, hurt more than I can possibly say.

"Elizabeth – " He tries to take back the words, but it's too late.

"Is that what you really think?" The hurt is vanishing, replaced quickly with burning anger. "Because I think you're too much of a coward to tell Gracie the truth about the trip you're going on."

"What truth?" He's panicking, catching my arm before I can burst out into the Breakfast room.

"That the purpose of the trip is to kill her father." I say. He opens his mouth to protest. "Her real father," I interrupt. He falls silent.

"Do you even know whether it's Sparrow or Turner?" He asks in a strange voice. I blush and turn away, because he's right, I don't know. He laughs bitterly.

"Elizabeth….?" I can hear the hesitation in his voice as his hand on my arm draws me closer. Suddenly I know that this is my chance to get where I want to go. I turn so our faces are only inches apart. He's still hesitating, so I lean closer to him and let my eyelids flutter shut. He closes his mouth over mine and for his sake I try very hard not to think of anyone else. Only the thought that I'm doing it for Jack and Gracie and _him, _keeps me from moving away or slapping him.

Eventually we have to take a breath and I move away, clenching my fist behind my back. My nails are digging into my palm so hard that I can feel the blood running down the back of my hand.

"Take me with you…" I plead manipulatively, looking at him through my long eyelashes. I feel like a bitch, but if it gets me where I have to be, then so be it.

In his head he's trying to justify taking me. I bet he's thinking about Beckett's letter. _ 'I would recommend that you do not take your wife on the voyage, I believe that she and Turner have some kind of history'. _Some kind of history is an understatement.

"Please…" I move closer so my whole body is pressed up against his. That's all the persuasion he needs.

"Alright." He sounds reluctant, but his eyes don't look it. "We leave tomorrow, so you'd better start packing." He smiles as I whirl out the door, full of the childish energy I thought I'd long forgotten.

x

"Aren't you happy, Mama?" Gracie smiles, bouncing up and down on her toes with nervous energy.

I smile for her, but my heart isn't in it. Seeing all these ships around me, gently bobbing in the waves, it's bringing back memories.

"_You love him?" _

_His voice is painfully soft and at first I don't turn around. _

_I give an amused snort, _

"_Jack? Of course not," My tone is light-hearted, but my feelings anything but. _

_Jack's back, along with the Pearl, Barbossa's banished and Davy Jones is dead, Bootstrap has been rescued… The adventures are over. This should be the bit where Will declares everlasting love for me and kisses me to the light of the sinking sun. _

_But it's not going according to plan._

"_Then why?" He persists. _

"_Why what?" _

"_Elizabeth…" His voice is soft and I can't quite tell if he says my name as curse or prayer. I turn to him, leaning up against the rail, and scrutinise his sad brown eyes, hoping they'll reveal the truth to me. They don't. "You frustrate me so, I can't tell if you truly mean anything any more. "He says._

_He sighs and I can feel a cold feeling rising in the pit of my stomach. Why couldn't he just have abided by the plan, goddamnit?_

"_If you don't love him, then why were you with him last night?" _

"_Oh!" The sound inadvertently pops out of my mouth as I whirl away in horror, my cheeks flushing furiously. "That was a mistake…" My voice trembles. _

"_Elizabeth…" His hands are on my waist and he spins me around, his lips coming down unto mine with an undeniable passion. My heart races like nothing I've ever experienced before as he moves his mouth from my lips, only to whisper my name into my neck. An intense longing, a terrible shivery feeling to good for words steals over me as our bodies press closer. _

"_Will…" I find myself moaning his name like it will save me from drowning in the scary feeling that's threatening to submerge me…_

"Mama?"

"Sorry, Gracie." I shake the memories from my head, snapping open my fan to hide the blush from Gracie's curious eyes. My fan is flapping jerkily by the time James greets us at the docks and prepares to escort us onto the new ship. The _Endeavour, _one of Beckett's finest.

By the look in my husband's eyes I can see he's already regretting this. I smile flirtatiously and flap my fan in his direction. He looks away quickly, uncomfortable with my open affection. A bright bloom of happiness bursts inside me as I step up on the ship, finally.

Gulls soar over my head, screeching their song to the wind. The wind tears at my constrained hair and I feel happiness steal over me like a thief in the night. I smile over my fan at James, who only frowns.

"Prepare to cast off!"

Gracie and I squeal in delight as the wind makes the sails billow and puff out. I grab her tiny waist, already firmly corseted and heft her up onto the rail. We watch as Port Royal shrinks into the distance, leaning over the rail dangerously. She flings her arms around my neck and presses a sticky kiss to my cheek.

"You're happy now, aren't you, Mama."

"Yes, yes I am." I smile at her, but I'm thinking of someone else. Someone I haven't been this close to in years.

She presses another kiss to my cheek and we lean there for a while. One of my legs is in the air, my skirts hitched up about my thighs, but I couldn't have cared less. James apparently didn't share my opinion.

"Elizabeth," He whispers into the back of my neck, leaning over us, making us look like the perfect happy family. "Have you any idea that the entire crew is enjoying a very nice view of your behind at the moment."

"James, I really don't give a damn."

"Elizabeth!" He snatches Gracie from my arms and passes her into the arms of a passing officer. "Be good for Lieutenant Andrews, Gracie." He grabs my wrist in an iron grip and heaves me back onto both my feet.

Once we are in the cabin he turns back to me, eyes flashing dangerously.

"You are my wife, Elizabeth, and I expect you to behave like it – "

"I'm not your anything!" I snap, watching as a quick flash of hurt replaces the anger in his eyes for a second, so quick I might have imagined it.

"You must behave proper, whether you like it or not."

"Proper, proper, proper!" I shriek, tears burning at my lashes. "Is that all life is for you? A chance to be proper? I'm tired of proper, James. Wait – Don't you dare lock me in here – James!"

But it's too late, I pound my fists against the hard wood but it doesn't give. Tears of self-pity slide down my cheeks and I brush them away angrily. It's not fair…

x


	3. madwoman in the mirror

_**-The Madwoman in the Mirror-**_

It's too hot for corsets, I decide. I snap open my fan with smoothness born of years of practice. Shifting restlessly in the chair that I'm forced to sit upon, I fan dear Gracie who's asleep on my lap, her poor face flushed and hot.

Despite the sweltering heat, my dear husband thought it would be a good idea for us to dress up and play happy families in the midday sun.

"May we retire to the cabin, James dear? I fear little Grace is fatigued by our visit above deck." I say in a sickeningly sweet voice, as James rushes past. I ignore the strange looks from the little horde of followers that James always has, carrying maps and telescopes and such. He nods distractedly, barely noticing my insincere tone.

A faint smile pulls at my face as I lift my girl over my shoulder and carry her, brushing away the well-meaning helping hands. Once inside I toss my bonnet to the floor, wild with irrational fury. I place Gracie gently on the bed, my curls tumbling out of their pins. I'm about to turn away, when her eyelids flutter and a small warm hand clutches at my skirts.

"Daddy?" she murmurs sleepily and all I can see is those big brown eyes that so definitely aren't James's

"Daddy's not here, darling," I whisper, taking her hand in my hand. And there's more truth in that statement than she could ever possibly imagine.

I sit down on the bed, the whalebone in my corset cutting into my stomach. Gracie's eyes slowly close and I sigh with relief. I'm not the best of mothers and I wouldn't have a clue what to do if she had a temper tantrum.

The corset is still cutting into me and that sharp stabbing pain is reminding me of how impossibly angry I am.

In one reckless movement, I wrench the pins out of my hair. Golden brown wisps of hair come away with my fist. The tearing pain in my scalp informs me that I'm pulling out more hair than pins, but I don't care. I'm breathing so harshly that I can't tell whether I'm sobbing or not. I catch sight of a wild-eyed woman, with her hair in disarray in my looking glass and I stop and breathe.

Now I resemble Elizabeth Swann when I look into that looking glass. That strange proper woman has disappeared. Thank God. To my surprise, a sob bursts out of me.

Sometimes I worry that the freedom will go, as my husband so wishes. The fire in my eyes will go out, the spirit within me will be quenched. My heart will stop yearning for that life on the sea.

Tears drip off the end of my nose. I've never been able to cry gracefully. Hell, I rarely do anything graceful, except if it involves a sword. A red blotchy face peers mournfully at me through the looking glass. She looks like the saddest person I've ever seen.

Sinking onto the bed, I stretch up and reach for the bell, soon enough my maid comes in.

"Undress me," I sigh, lifting my arms and withdrawing behind my screen. She undoes my stays in silence. She's a pretty little thing whose name I can't quite remember.

"I'm sorry," I end up saying, "I can't seem to recall your name."

"I'm Carlie, miss," she sighs with that polite yet exasperated air of someone who has told you their name many times and probably will have to tell you again tomorrow.

"Thank you, Carlie," I smile as she slips the evening gown over my head.

The simple fact that she's given me the evening gown and not my nightdress makes me want to be sick. Dear James must have requested I come to dinner for once instead of pleading illness again. That sneaky Carlie finishes putting on my new dress, blue silk with a plain white trim and guides me to the chair.

She brushes my hair out and I wince as the ivory-handled brush goes over the tender place on my scalp. The tender place where about fifteen minutes ago I was wrenching my hair out like a madwoman.

When I finally sweep into the dining area, my husband and all the distinguished guests are halfway through their first glasses of wine and waiting upon my presence impatiently. I breeze up to James in a cloud of expensive perfume that he hates and brush a soft kiss on his tired cheek.

The faint stubble scratches against my lips and for a small moment I am overcome by a sense of something I've never felt with regard to him. He looks tired and his dark green eyes flutter shut as he leans his forehead against mine. His eyelashes brush softly over my skin and something stirs inside me.

"I'm ever so sorry," he whispers

"It'll be okay," I answer numbly, feeling entirely out of place. I'd never seen James so vulnerable and considering he was normally a rock in my life it was strange and rther unsettling for him to be so unsteady.

He pulls me into a warm hug and I snuggle into him, something I haven't done in years. I almost loved him once and sometimes I hated him and now I wasn't sure.

"Dinner is served,"

James pulls away from me and gestures to the chair beside him. I smile and for what is probably the first time in my entire marriage, I feel content to be beside my husband, although dinner as usual is tedious.

Not far from the Endeavour, a dark smudge appears on the horizon. Unseen by the partying folk on board the King's vessel, the dark ship approaches quickly.

James puts down his fork with a sigh. I glance with a raised eyebrow at the plate of food that he had simply poked at and shot him a disapproving look. The men are about to retire to the Captain's quarters for brandy and cigars. But sudden shouts above halt all progress.

James stands suddenly, knocking his plate to the floor with a resounding crash. Bits of chicken and potato fly everywhere, splattering my dress. I barely notice. I don't even hear the room fall silent, don't see the scandalised looks of the people on my right. My gaze is fixed in horror on the real fear in my husband's eyes.

Somebody clatters down the stairs. A young boy of only eighteen or so fixes panic-stricken eyes on the crowd of dressed up people and looks almost ready to faint. Everyone stands in silence for a moment before I am surprised to hear my own voice explode into the tense silence.

"What's going on?"

James looks at me, me splattered with potato and chicken with colour rising in my cheeks, and seems to gather himself.

"Nobody panic," he announces as if he'd always been calm and in control. "Wilkins report!" he barks at the boy as conversation begins to buzz in the room around us.

"Ship approaches without flying any colours."

"Pirates" James mutters as the boy keeps going on increasingly hysterical tones.

"Geordie said that too but I'm not entirely sure and other men have mentioned that it might be the Heart-Thief and of course that is rubbish, but, well I'malittletinybitscared…Sir." The boy stops blabbering when he sees the confusion on our faces.

"Never mind," replies James but I can almost see his thoughts moving double speed under that fine white wig. "Heart-Thief,"

The significance of this catches James and I in the same sudden moment and our eyes meet across the table.

"Will," I say, while not meaning to have said anything at all.

"Elizabeth, cabin, now," he says briskly. "Wilkins will escort you."

Then he breezes off as if I had nothing to worry about. But everyone knows what happens to women who meet the Captain of the Heart Thief.

They die.

And that's not the worst of it.


End file.
